Monster Hunter: Unveiled Past
by JerichoBlackwing
Summary: Monster Hunter fic. Ever wonder why the wyverns haven't been hunted to extinction? I know that personally I have hunted down hundreds. Where do they keep coming from? A story that will reveal the answer and more. Currently on: Chapter 1.
1. Prologue

The air was thick with heat, ash, and sound. A cloaked figure unsteadily made its way up the side of the volcano carrying a small bundle. The sounds of combat were growing more and more distinct. In a level clearing amongst the jagged rocks the cloaked figure paused, panting, trying to catch her breath.

"Those fools can't stop it," she muttered to herself, "They can only it make even more angry."

She could see the fight from were she had stopped. Three hunters… and a dragon whose scales came in two colors, deep black and a deeper crimson. The dragon gave a howl. In response fire fell from the sky, searing the already hot earth with draconic fury. The hunters paid no attention, mechanically unleashing the arrows from their bows. As another volley of arrows found their mark the creature yelped in pain and reared backwards trying to get away from the infuriating stings. It unleashed a deafening roar and it's chest began to glow like magma.

"Enraged again," muttered one of the hunters, placing another arrow on his bowstring. His bow was of strange design; at first glance it didn't look like a bow at all. It was mostly obsidian black, save for some earthen orange-tan colors at the tips of the bow. Two features made it appear odd. The first was the large "shields" mounted on either side of the bow's top. The second was that it was "Y" shaped, the string connecting at two places at the top and one at the bottom. The other two hunters carried the same kind of bow.

The cloaked figure was now in the lava field were the fight was occurring. Hurriedly she strode towards the combat. When she was close she lifted the bundle high above her head. It gave small cry. One of the hunters (a huntress) turned to look reflexively. It was a baby.

"Great Fatalis! We mean you no harm! Take my child and leave our kingdom in peace!"

The huntress that had turned had put away her bow and was making a mad dash for the cloaked woman, screaming at the top of her lungs, "YOU IDIOTIC BITCH!"

The Fatalis had taken notice as well. Not only did these creatures sting him with their flying thorns, but now they shout at him as well? Infuriating! It reared back its head and gathered its hatred into its toothy maw. The huntress plowed into the woman, knocking her down just as a sphere of immolation blazed by.

Furious the huntress pinned the woman to the ground and shouted, "WHAT KIND OF MOTHER OFFERS UP HER CHILD TO A BEAST?! DID YOU HONESTLY THINK IT CARES WHAT SACRIFICES YOU MAKE TO IT?!

"But there's no other way! You can't kill such a creature!"

"LOOK AT THAT THING AND TELL ME WE CAN'T KILL IT"

The woman did. Its wings were full of holes. The hard scales of its chest were cracked. The horns on the left side of its head were gone and the left eye missing. Could the Fatalis really be felled?

"Woman, I don't know who you are but I am really fighting the urge to kill you for your stupidity and shitty parenting. Hey are you listening to me?"

The huntress realized that she was not. She also realized that the ground around them had the glow that marked it for immolation. The Fatalis had called another fire-rain and they were about to be pegged dead on. Desperately she grabbed the woman, who had been staring at their impending doom. As she began to roll she already knew it was too late. She could feel the intense heat. The last thing she saw was a nova of fury plummeting towards her.

"Hana!" shouted one of the other two hunters.

"Stay focused, Zaahir!" the third hunter yelled.

"You stay focused!" was the indignant reply. Zaahir dropped his bow and ran to the smoking pile. Of the woman there was only ash and some black bones. As for Hana, her armor preserved a bit more, but it was hardly an improvement over the woman's condition.

"Oh, Hana…" Zaahir mumbled.

"You're next if you don't start paying attention! Zaahir!"

Kneeling, Zaahir placed his hand on the huntress's still simmering helm and spoke softly, "What am I going to tell our son?"

The third hunter whipped his bow around and sent an arrow whizzing past Zaahir's ear. Zaahir didn't move.

"Damn it! All I wanted to do was kill this temperamental lizard, carve it up, piss on it a few times, go home, and make an ornamental outhouse out of its skull. Whack-jobs offering up their kids was nowhere in the job descri— urrgh!"

The Fatalis had turned towards Zaahir and in the process its massive whip-like tail had sent the third hunter flying. Again it summoned its fury and unleashed it at Zaahir. His ashes fell on those of his lover's.

One left, there was one stinging creature left. But the thorns were taking their toll. They were filled with darkness akin to his own. That was it, no more. The Fatalis gave one more defiant roar before spreading its wings and starting the process of getting itself airborne. By the time the last hunter was back on his feet, arrow at the ready, the dragon was far overhead.

"Draconic bastard."

He walked over to the piles of ash. Yup, extra freaking crispy. Glancing around he found the bundle the woman had brought laying a few feet from her remains. He darted over. The child was alive and screaming, the rumble of the volcano drowning out it until close. There was a large gash in the child's back. Well, large for a child anyway. Pressing the cloth to the child's back to try and stop the bleeding he began walking to the exit. A party of Felynes entered. Their leader stopped and spoke.

"Nya, congratulations on repelling the dragon, Sir hunter. Were there not others with…?" The Felyne peered around the hunter and began to grasp some of what had happened. "Damn, nya…"

"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up."


	2. Dark nights, cloudy days, and crazy cats

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Alright! The next chapter is in! Be sure to review! Oh, and as much as I'd love to put in detailed descriptions of all the monsters for the people that haven't played MH, it would take forever to do. If you really want to know about a monster I mention in here just remember, "Google is your friend".

* * *

_Why do their deaths trouble you so?_

"They were my best friends, why wouldn't it trouble me?"

_They were idiots. They allowed a distraction to interfere with the hunt._

"There are things more important than the hunt."

_Nothing is more important. There is only the hunt._

"For you maybe, you sadistic freak."

_Just remember, if you had gotten full control we would have only added to the ash pile, and that whelp you fret over so much would have bled to death on the volcanic rocks._

"Yes, yes. And if I were in control when the Rathian broke out of her cage and burnt down three occupied homes she would have killed us. And if I were in control when we saw those Tigrex attack a caravan we would have been mauled. You let the Rathian burn down those homes; you let the Tigrex slaughter the caravan. I swear, every time we talk I remember why I locked you away… wait! You can't—"

An old man sat bolt upright, sweaty and panting. It was the dead of night, but he could still make out the outline of a man wearing an all too familiar suit of armor.

_What? Be here? You can't lock me away you senile old man._

The old man began to scramble for the candle on the table next to his bed.

_Because I'm up in here, and if you don't let me out I'll get out on my own someday._

When the candle was finally lit the dancing light revealed only empty air where the man was. Panting the man lay back onto his bed, nervous and twitchy.

"Dad… Are you all right?"

He looked up at the young woman standing in his doorway.

"Mira, what are you doing up this late?"

"I could ask you the same thing," there was a long pause, "If you must know I'm looking after you. Dad, you've been talking in your sleep for months."

"I have?"

"Yeah. The first time I didn't think much of it, but it has been getting steadily worse. I started keeping a log."

She produced a notebook. He leafed through it. At first the entries where dated few and far between, but as it went on they became daily.

"You want to tell me what's wrong, dad? Or do you know?"

"I don't know," he said evenly. It was only partly a lie.

"Alright, we'll worry about this in the morning. Get some sleep."

"You to."

She paused at the doorway, the light catching the top of her distinct pink scar which started at her bare right shoulder and disappeared under nightgown to snake it's way down her back and frightfully close to the base of her spine. Whatever miracle saved her from the wound that left the scar did her a second kindness as well. It could have been a horrific scar, but instead it not only heal quite nicely, but also took the unmistakable form of a rose, the flower on her shoulder and the stem down her back. It was between this scar and her impressive skill as a hunter that she had earned the name "Mira the Blood Rose".

Finally she asked, "Does 'Gore Weaver' ring any bells?"

Luckily for the old man she was turned away and didn't see him cringe.

"No, where did you hear it?"

"It's one of the things you said in your sleep. Goodnight, Dad."

"Goodnight, Mira"

When the morning came the night's events were only a dim memory to the old man. He went about his business as he normally would, dressing in a plain outfit, tying his long silver hair back where it belonged, checking his short beard in the mirror.

"I wonder if I'll have a long wispy one before my time is up," he mused to himself.

The sky was cloudy, but the air was nice and cool. Mira was still asleep, and Marduk would be at the training school by now. A short walk would go unnoticed. He donned his hiking boots and made for the door. Stepping out onto the porch he took a long, deep lungful of fresh air, and then—

"Goo mornin' si—urg!"

"What in the name of a Lao Shan's spectacularly large ass are doing jumping out at me like that?"

The young man picked himself off the ground, holding his bloody nose.

"Orry, ir. I wa jut ex-ited to eet you. Dat all."

"I'm sorry, what? Here use this."

The old man quickly wiped the blood off his hand with his handkerchief and gave it to him. While the young man was busy composing himself the old man took a good look at him. He had very dark skin and was wearing armor that was definitely that of a hunter, but was also very basic. It was a mixture of leather and chain armor, which he had probably spent his meager life savings on with the hopes of fame and fortune as a hunter. The he was the type that people usually hear got minced by a Yian Kut Ku after a few weeks. Then again, most hunters started out looking the same way.

Having composed himself enough for speech the young man tried again, "Sorry, I'm just been really, really excited abou' meeting you. Not every day you get te say 'Good mornin'' to Hank de Silver Soul."

The old man raised an eyebrow. "If your talking about me you are sadly mistaken. I'm not 'Hank the Silver Soul', just plain Hank."

"Don' be modest! Is common knowledge dat you trained Marduk de Watcher and Mira de Blood Rose! I follows dem and dey both be livin' here!"

"I'm their landlord."

"I'm preddy sure dat lan-lords don' have moves like yos. I diddn' even see yo hand move when you hit meh!"

"Then how do you know it was me if you didn't see my hand move? How do you know you didn't walk into something?"

"One, I was standin' put. Du, I may na be Marduk de Watcher but I saw you wipe ma blood off yo knuckles befo you gave me yo rag. Oh yea, thanks by da way." He handed back the handkerchief that Hank had given him. It used to be red, blue, and green plaid, now it was almost entirely red.

"Eh, sure thing," Hank replied, taking the messy cloth. "I will admit that I was at one time know as 'Hank the Silver Soul', but now I'm retired."

"What?! Hunters like you don' retire! If dey ever stop huntin' it's cuz dey got eaten tryin' te take down some big ass dragon!"

"Well this hunter is. Have been for more than three seasons."

The man let out a long sigh. "I s'ppose dat you ain't gonna train me den, you bein' retired n' all."

"I'm afraid not, good sir. There is, however, a training school nearby where Marduk is an instructor."

"Dose schools never worked fo me. Is dat how you learned?"

"No, I learned on my own."

"Really?"

"Yes. Everything I learned was through personal experience or by listening to the veterans in the gathering hall."

His eyes lit up. "If it's good nuf' for Hank de Silver Soul it's good nuf' for me."

As the young man ran off Hank called after him, "Be careful and good luck!"

"I give him three weeks," Mira said from the doorway.

"Hey it worked for me, it might work for him," Hank replied without turning.

She raised an eyebrow to this. "You were practically a child prodigy. Born with a caving knife in your hand and all that."

"You have no idea," he mumbled softly. Then he turned to her, asking, "Who came up with that one?"

"The new bard at the gathering hall."

"They just get weirder and weirder things to say about me, don't they?"

"Yup. Say, you weren't trying to sneak off without telling anyone again, where you?"

With a grin Hank said, "Okay. You weren't trying to sneak off without telling anyone again, where you?" Mira rolled her eyes, which Hank replied to saying, "What? I did what you asked."

"If you're going out you need to take Tutela with you."

"Can't I at least on a few occasions go for a walk without that eccentric cat at my heel? She's always chasing some poor animal and causing a ruckus."

"Tutela is not eccentric, she just takes her job very seriously. And those "poor animals" she chases off are very dangerous."

"Mosswine and vespoid," Hank stated.

Mira countered, "And bullfango, and velociprey. You may have been an amazing hunter, but now you're retired and I don't see you carrying a weapon with you for protection. Wait right here and I'll go get her."

Hank considered slinking off while she was gone, but then he remembered how badly that had gone the last time he tried that. All he could do was wait and brace for impact. About a minute went by before he heard the patter of paws barreling down the hall towards the front door. Hank set himself in a solid stance with his arms poised and waited until…

"NYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAA!!"

The felyne leapt at Hank, who deftly caught her with both hands mid-pounce and held her at arm's length. Tutela was a average sized felyne, which meant that she came to Hank's knee while standing on her hind paws. Her fur was mostly tan with black patches here and there, and her eyes were a vibrant green.

She flailed wildly about in Hank's iron grip before finally pointing an accusing fore paw and yowling quite angrily, "What were you thinking, nya?!"

"I was thinking that I was a elite hunter while you were just a kitten! I don't need you to baby-sit me!"

"And when you were being mister elite hunter what did you have with you, nya? Armor so hard that it could shatter a wyvern's fangs and weapons so sharp that they pass through a Gravios like a warm knife through butter! Nya, I don't see you with either!"

"For one, I'm not hunting, I'm going for a walk! Two, hunting is more about skill than equipment! I know every area inside out and backwards! I can handle myself!"

"You may know the every area "inside out and backwards, nya, but your body isn't indestructible! If we let you run off on your own some part of you might give out and you'll be stuck out there!"

"I'm not made out of glass!"

Nya, you're not made out of iron either!"

They glared at one another for some time, until Tutlela mumbled, "Would you put me down so I can get my stuff and we can get going?"

Hank set her down and she ran back into the house. After a short time she came back wearing light armor and carrying a traditional felyne pick.

Looking up to Hank she mewed, "Lead the way, Sir Hank."

At this a fiendish grin played across Hank's lips. "Alright, try to keep up though," he said before running off.

Tutela darted after him, yowling, "Haannnk! Wait up, nya! You're going to hurt yourself, Hank! Slow down! NYYAA!!


End file.
